


Beautiful

by Bettername



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:06:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bettername/pseuds/Bettername
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people alone in a city, unrequited love, and a night that would change both of their lives. </p><p> </p><p>  <em> She was only a few feet away, closer than he had ever been, closer than he had ever dared to dream about. Her eyes’ were brown and they were beautiful. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever written something and thought that you would never write something of its caliber again?

The walls were painted gray. Not because it was the perfunctory default color, but because they were chosen to be. The floors were refinished hardwood, they were of course dust-free, dirt-free, and clutter-free. All except for the pile of shoes strategically placed by the front door under the coat hooks nailed to the wall. The furniture was sparse and hardwood, cleaned up castoffs each with their own nicks and dents that gave them character. A bed was shoved against the side wall of the studio apartment. It was made, not exceptionally well, but the effort had been taken to pull up the covers. The stark white comforter and navy blue sheets were washed along with the towels biweekly. All clothes were washed the alternating week. A folded ironing board was propped up in a corner ready and waiting to steam away the affliction of wrinkles that plagued all clothes.

The desk occupied the far side of the room, large, stately, another cast off. There were three drawers along the side, top for pens, pencils, notepads and the like. The middle one contained important documents that should not be lost under any circumstance. The last drawer was for white printer paper, not bright white, just white. The top of the desk was clean, dust-free and clutter-free except for the low bin at the far right corner. The dark brown box was overflowing with mail, papers, and musings. In the middle sat the laptop, not brand new, but complete with current software. The printer flanked the laptop on the left. In front of the laptop sat its owner.

He leaned forward in his chair, dark hardwood; it matched the floors, not the desk. His elbow leaned on top of the desk his hand covered his mouth, chin rested on his palm. The suspected glitch was hunted down with a tenacity of one obsessed in perfection in ones work. Hours of frustration checking servo motors and dozens of wire connections boiled down to a software problem and not a hardware problem. ~ CAKE could never be a piece of itself. After a few swift mouse clicks his progress slogging through thousands of lines of code was saved. Today, as in most other days, he would go out for lunch. He glanced down at his watch. It was a fifteen minute walk to the cafe near the park. At the cafe he would order his usual, a vegetarian burger hold the dressing. The preparation of said sandwich and the wait in line on average took eight minutes. The walk to his favorite location in the park was, if traffic permitted, two minutes. She would show up without fail at the coffee shop every weekday at noon. He had twenty minutes to get ready. Fifteen if he wanted to see her walk into the coffee shop.

He looked down at his navy dress shirt, all buttons correctly buttoned. The wrinkles borne from hours sitting stationary in front of the computer were not that ingrained into the fabric, it was washed four days ago. His black slacks had the rumpled look but a quick smoothing worked wonders. He fished out a pair of white socks and then headed to the bathroom. His hair was clean, thanks to the shower in the morning. He would not tempt fate and let it remain in the carefully crafted ponytail. There was a few hours’ worth of growth on his face, but nothing alarming. He flossed, brushed his teeth, gargled and spit. After that he looked into the mirror and declared himself presentable to the public. Not that he planned in interact with anyone more than necessary. He looked down at his watch, he could enjoy the stroll. He slipped on a pair of shoes and left for the café.

After he had grabbed his sandwich and a bottle of tea, he sat down on his bench and waited. He was a patient man, but was used to a set schedule more or less. She did not disappoint. She had recently cut her hair. Her auburn locks were now in a short bob instead of down past her shoulders. He surmised it was due to the change in season instead of a change in relationship status because he had not seen her with an obvious boyfriend recently. He would have noticed such things. Her change of hairstyle suited her greatly and went well with the warming of the weather. Today she had on a dark purple cardigan, plum almost. It accented her black well creased dress pants, which were part of her work’s dress code. Her shoes were black sneakers, practical footwear for a barista who would spend most of her day on her feet. He took a bite of his sandwich and opened his newspaper while he thought of how she spent her day at work.

A pair of women sat down at the nearest bench to his right. They were office ladies, mid-thirties, uninteresting. They took out their lunches while they gossiped. They were loud enough for him to hear every single word of their conversation. It destroyed his blissful daydream. He attempted to tune out their conversation which focused on a secretary that had some mental defect because she refused the advances from the mail guy. He took another bite of his sandwich and continued to watch her at work from across the street. He first saw her five years ago. It was raining. His bike had gotten a flat on the trip from the university to his apartment. The weight of the day hit him as he was passing the park. The bike refused to go any further and he refused to push it. He sat down on the bench and leaned forward putting his face in his palms. The rain continued to fall. He looked up and across from him was a bright light. The coffee shop across the street was still open. And inside, inside was an angel. She sat alone at the counter, a book in her hand. Her face was serene, under the shop’s lights she glowed. She was beautiful. He knew salvation.

The office ladies snapped him back to the present. His precious memory ended as they moved on to what the delivery guy’s abs might look like. It ruined the taste of his sandwich. The bell had tolled, it was time to go. He folded his newspaper, put his lunch in the bag and left. The trudge back to the apartment was joyless. It physically hurt him to walk away from her. But the anticipation of the next time he would see her made leaving worth it. He returned back to the apartment and back to work. 

After a few more hours of staring at the monitor he ended his work day. Dinner was a vegetable stir fry mix, serving size two. He ate one portion and put the second portion in a plastic container. The leftovers sat on the counter, a bitter reminder that every meal he made was in two portions. There was nothing that came as a single serving except loneliness. He looked out the kitchen window, it was dark and raining. He had to see her. He put his loneliness in the refrigerator and closed the door.

He grabbed his coat, wrenched on a pair of shoes and rushed out of the apartment. He checked his watch as he flew down the stairs. She would be closing the shop down in a few minutes, he might make it. He had to make it. He sprinted, thankful that traffic was light. He slowed down as he got closer to the shop. She was standing outside of the door, keys in hand as she was about to lock up. It was dark out so he almost did not see him. On the other side of her down the street was a man in a dark green military jacket. He hid behind the corner of the neighboring building and continued to watch. That man was unfamiliar but that walk was not. That man was not out for an evening stroll. 

She remained oblivious of both of them as she locked the door. She put the keys into her handbag and glanced up to the man. She froze. He kept walking towards her. She jerked, turned and started to walk away from the shadowy figure. He struggled whether to help her or not. If he came to her aid he would be exposed. She would become aware of him. He would no longer be invisible. He would no longer be able to see her in the same light. She would know and it would be over. It could not be over. He needed to see her. He needed her. But he could not just watch.

He had spent the majority of his time as a child tinkering with the household appliances. Taking them apart, learning what made them tick, and putting them back together to their original condition if not better. His father forced him into the football program at his middle school. He broke the collar bone of an opposing team player during the second game of his first season. His father then demanded that he take boxing in hopes of getting the son he wanted. Boxing was highly physical but also a very technical sport. He was accepted into his first college choice through his skill with robotics he paid for it with a boxing scholarship. It had been a few years since his college days, but taking that filth out would not be difficult. Ten years of training would see to that.

Whether he would or would not help her was no longer an issue. That man would touch her. He would desecrate her. She was not some object for that thing to paw at. She hurried her pace. The thing continued to stalk her. She let out a worried squeak as she turned back to look and saw that her pursuer was gaining. The man in the jacket grabbed her arm. His mind was filled with a dull buzz that crescendo to a roar. He sprinted past her to the creature. He clenched his fist, thumb on the outside, knuckles lined up and white. He drew his right arm back in a motion repeated thousands of times over a period of ten years. He aimed at the thing’s jaw and let fly. His target did not stand a chance. His fist hit the man’s jaw, the impact rippled throughout the attacker’s body. His knees buckled and the filth crumpled and fell to the sidewalk. He stood over the man, staring down at him, he waited for him to stir, he did not.

The rain continued to fall, it cooled him down. He unclenched his fist and felt the tension leave his body. She was standing across from him staring. Her hair was wet, her coat was soaked through. There was a chill in the damp air but she continued to look at him. She took a few tentative steps towards him and stopped. She leaned forward, her hands clutching the strap of her purse as she peered at him. He looked back at her. She was only a few feet away, closer than he had ever been, closer than he had ever dared to dream about. Her eyes’ were brown and they were beautiful.

The thing groaned and began to stir. They both looked down at his sprawled form on the sidewalk below. His eyes fluttered open and looked over to the cause of his current condition. He did not want the man to even flirt with the idea of getting up. He put his right hand in his palm and cracked his knuckles.

“Okay, okay I get it,” the man mumbled.

“They usually stay unconscious longer when I hit them,” he mused to himself. He glanced up. Her face was a mixture of shock and horror. This was it, what he feared. He had said it out loud and now he was the unhinged violent guy that leapt out of nowhere and knocked some other nut job out. It was time to back pedal and fast. “I used to box back in high school and college,” he stammered. “In matches when I would knock my opponent out they would stay unconscious longer. I saw that you were in trouble so I had to sav- help you. I had to help you.” 

“Oh.”

“I’ll call the cops now.” The trip to the station was short. The time taken to record their statements brief. Both stories matched and all necessary paperwork was filled out and filed. It was still raining by the time they left the station. She stuck her hand out. He stared at it. He knew what it meant, but he did not believe that it was happening. She wiggled it like a fisherman that attempts to make his lure more enticing. He took the bait and gingerly wrapped his hand around hers. They were halfway down the street from the station before she began to speak.

“Thanks for saving me back there. I’m sorry that you had to get dragged into that. I know that you’re the guy that eats lunch every day at the park bench across from my work. I also know that you come near my work every once in a while around closing time.” She stopped walking. “I’m just glad that you were there tonight,” she whispered. “I pass you at Verve everyday on my way to work. It’s like the day isn’t even happening if I don’t see you standing in line in that little café. You always look so content. Every day you have this look on your face like everything is okay, like you’re looking forward to something. Like you have something to look forward to.” She stopped and wiped her eyes with her hands. “I’m not crying it’s just the rain.”

He did not think about what he was doing. He was not the type to be so bold. It was instinct. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She put her arms inside his coat and clutched on to him. The rain had stopped but the damp air chilled him. She was warm, a glowing ember that heated him to the core. 

“You,” he paused. “When I was standing in line I was thinking of you.”

She looked up at him. Her brown eyes were red from crying, her hair was wet and matted from the rain, and she was beautiful. This moment was perfect. And he never wanted it to end. He had never wanted anything so much in his life as he did now. Not the scholarship, not the titles he had won in his matches, not the awards won by his machines, not the approval of his father. He wanted her to stay with him, if just for a moment longer. He mustered up a lifetime’s worth of courage.

“Milkshakes.” She looked puzzled. He smiled as he brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I know a place near here that sells milkshakes. They should still be open. I was wondering if you would want to have one with me.” She nodded yes and they headed off down the sidewalk.


End file.
